TRAVEL STORIES
From 2008 until 2020, I kept a (mostly) regular travel blog and included writings and photographs. I started the effort before taking an adventurous trip to western Mongolia to catch a solar eclipse, and ended it the week before covid locked down the world, and I ran out of steam. Included nearby on this site is the archive of those postings, but I recently enjoyed re-reading some entries and thought the words themselves were interesting. I selected a short entry from each year.
2008, Thursday, July 31 / Western Mongolia - Patience
One of my traveling companions, Bern, is a very spiritual guy. Shortly before leaving home he received a package from Boojum with a baseball cap - the package was swarming with ants. His first reaction was "what the ....." - his second reaction, after scattering the ants in his yard, was to look up any reference to ants in a Native American animal spirit book. They signify patience. This was to be an important lesson for the next couple of days.
Because the airline had "lost our reservations" it had been necessary to arrange a charter, but the only available time slot was at night and Olgiy, our destination, did not have landing lights at the dirt airfield. So the flight was now to go to Hovd, about a six hour drive away. So, with that as the preamble, the bus to the airport broke down, the plane was late, we arrived close to midnight at a marginal hotel in Hovd (described by one of our guides as "a hole in the ground").
The next morning we set off at 7:00 am in a caravan of five Russian vans with local drivers and did not arrive at our camp until after 11:00 pm - 16 hours. The seven people in our van get along well but get rather punchy after about the fifth stop to repair a broken vehicle. Our van is special - Carol and Marsha have bought a large bag of ribbons (don't ask) and the vehicle is festooned with color.
We like our driver too - he seems to have repaired the front wheel bearing problem with no after effects. One vehicle was finally declared without breaks and passengers were distributed into other vans, but driver and luggage continue on.
We all stop at the bottom of a steep grade to watch the driver descend with no breaks, but he manages well.
After dark, our driver and one other van are lost finding the camp and we are almost the last to arrive. Amazing starry sky.
The next morning we see where we are. This must be the place.
2009, Tuesday, October 6 / Uganda - Murchison Falls
Long road trip today. North from Entebbe to Murchison Falls National Park. The first part is through a chaotic outskirts of Kampala – traffic with cars, trucks and motorcycles / people with sleeveless t-shirts, business suits, fine dresses, bright colored school uniforms and muddy work clothes / buildings with brightly painted cell phone advertising, rickety wood shacks and small shops selling everything you could imagine. The last 100 km or so is a rough dirt track - “African massage” says Joseph. He drives extremely skillfully, but we are still rattled and jolted before we get to the falls.
Windows are kept closed to keep out the tsetse flys that swarm the Land Cruiser, but they all fly away somewhere else when we get to the falls. Murchison Falls is a place where the upper Nile river squeezes through a 25 foot wide chute with full fury. It is a remarkably iconic place, but we are the only visitors to take the short hike and pose for pictures. Michael takes our group photo, and says it comes out great. It is hot and humid – eyeglasses steam over with little effort and we all are restless to get to our lodge for tonight. The route has limited wildlife sighting opportunities – we see warthogs, cape buffaloes, tawny eagle, and some doves. When we leave the falls and head downstream to a ferry crossing all things change – we wait for the ferry and see more cape buffaloes, elephants, hippos, and more bird life. It sounds and smells like Africa now. The crossing is quick and leaves us just below our lodge for the next few days. Tomorrow we are going out on the river.
2010, May 1 / Shanghai - Looking Down in China
(This was the moment when I had a revaluation that led me to document manhole covers worldwide)
In Shanghai, we stayed with Mary's niece Anja and husband Julian. Walking about one day I noticed Anja's red shoes next to a stone pavement marker and thought them worthy of a photo. After that I kept looking down and became distracted by the variation of manhole covers that we came across. That became a subject for a photo essay. I think a lot of bystanders thought it odd, but in Hong Kong we visited with Mary's nephew Philip and his wife Alex. She thought it perfectly normal. She is also an architect, so we think it's an architect thing.
2011, Wednesday November 23 / Costa Rica - Do Not Look For Trouble
Arenal Volcano erupted suddenly and violently in 1968 and has been continuously erupting ever since, except when it is not. It is one of the most active volcanoes in the world, but it also has become quiet over the last couple of years, so nothing to see for us. Not that we can even see the volcano through the mist, but we are told that the view from our lodge is amazing.
In each room there is a card with emergency instructions that ends with:
Do Not Look for Trouble
Don't Panic
Always Remain Calm
Value Your Life
Words to live by under any circumstance.
2012, Tuesday February 21 / Nile River - Night on the Beach
Tonight we are treated to a barbecue on a small beach as the boat is tied up next to an island in the Nile. Good food, singing and drumming by the crew and dancing by all in good cheer. Later we are joined by two migrant farmers, Ibrihim and Mohammed, who are camped nearby in the fields where they are planting melons and are drawn to our fire. They share some desert and Ahmed translates some of their thoughts about their life and their thoughts about the revolution. They are hopeful, thinking that anything is better than the past under Mubarik and they have voted in the recent elections. I am surprised that these guys - one old and one young, who led an extremely simple life of hard work are able to participate in the new politics. They have both voted for a religious party candidate, but their reasons are practical, not religious. They feel the future of the country is uncertain and the religious parties have gained the trust of the people initially, but now they will have to produce. Ibrihm is the older and has a a weathered face that lights up with a great smile. He squats near the fire great with his palms towards the heat. Mohammed sits to his right and tends our fire by adding palm branches from time to time. They both wish us all a warm goodnight as we return return to the boat.
Now back on-board and the still of the evening is being disrupted by a religious rally on the opposite shore. Much music over on that side too, but they also have microphones to blare their message. The speaker across the river sounds like he is preaching fire and brimstone. I wait for them to quiet down and go home, and they eventually do.
All in all, this evening is giving me much to think about. The genuine good nature of the crew as we share their entertainment. The future of our two visitors, and the direction that their country will take. And the role that religion and faith takes in all aspects of people's lives -
2013, Tuesday July 30 / Alaska - Deadhorse
The end of the Dalton Highway is Deadhorse and the Prudhoe Bay oil fields. Miles and miles of mud roads, heavy equipment, mobile drill rigs, storage warehouses, and rugged housing modules; all in support of the 1,100 oil wells grouped in clusters strewn for 70 miles across the tundra. I am stunned by the extent of the place. It is a really ugly landscape, but you can't help but admire the audacity of it and my initial depression on seeing it gradually gives way to acceptance. Small groups of caribou wander between buildings and vehicle storage yards, mostly oblivious to man's rape of their landscape. The weather today is cool and windy, in the 40's. Officially a desert with about 7 inches of precipitation a year, there is still mud everywhere - the ground does not drain due to permafrost below. Road graders prowl the muddy streets, fighting a war with the potholes. Winter conditions are extreme but work continues through the year. We arrive at our accommodations in a utilitarian worker's housing structure and remove our shoes after passing through an airlock mud room. Meals are hardy and the workers are burly and heavily clothed but some wear baby blue boot covers in the hallways instead of removing their boots. We settle in and take advantage of the common toilet, shower and laundry room, although the women wait their turn for the smaller ladies facilities. No keys for the doors but theft is not an issue in such a place; residents have greater worries.
We visit the only store for hundreds of miles - a combination of a huge hardware store and post office, with a general store upstairs. Alicia visits the post office to inquire about shipping a caribou antler she found on a hike behind Galbraith Lake. But the post office lady checks with the airline and confirms it can be carried on if the tips are protected, so she helps with wrapping in pink bubble wrap, and grabs her camera to take a picture of Alicia in front of the store.
The day we arrive happens to be a special day: sunset. The sun has been up continuously during the summer, but today its low arc will dip below the horizon for about 20 minutes. I set my alarm and wake to capture the event and am rewarded only by a soft pink glow through the clouds to the north.
Our last day begins with a bus tour conducted by an informative security contractor who escorts us into areas closed to the public. He tells us that the tandem bike riders that we met in Coldfoot had been on the tour yesterday and we are happy to hear they made it to the end of the road safely. When we reach the end of the tour at the Arctic Ocean, we gladly participate in the ritual of taking a dip. I have brought my bathing suit, but it is so cold and windy that we all just roll up our pants and wade in, keeping our balance on the gravel in the small surf. Air and water temperature are both about 45, so the photo session is short but we perform a group chorus line to commemorate the end of the trip.
2014, Saturday April 5 / New Mexico - Trinity
Kind of funny to have a national historical monument that is closed to the public 364 days a year, but that's where I'm headed on day number 365. I'm on the dirt track that's the back way in, based on directions from Linda who runs the ranch B&B where I am staying. The route cuts from the back of the ranch across scrub desert towards the paved road to the gate onto military land. It's a beautiful morning and I stop for a bit to climb a ridge for the panoramic view. A few grazing cattle reluctantly get out of my way as I pass. Bit of a backup now at the gate as MPs check identification and give instructions: 14 miles, stay on the road, no stopping, no photos until you get there. When I do get here, there is a modest crowd milling and taking pictures, although, in fact there is not much to see now. But on a July morning in 1945, the air temperature went from the pre-dawn chill to ten million degrees in an instant. When it cooled, the surrounding desert sand had fused into a sheet of green radioactive glass. Because it had never been produced naturally it was given its own name: Trinitite, for the first atomic bomb test at Trinity Site, New Mexico. What is here today is not much. A somber stone monument, security fences, and if you look hard enough, pieces of Trinitite, left after the government removed all they could in a effort to "clean up" the site in the 1950's. I handle some found today that after checking that it registers only a few clicks on a Geiger counter operated by a volunteer. Not much physically here, but what
does remain when you think on all this, is the legacy of what we did here. They say man lost his innocence in the Garden of Edan, and certainly lost a bit more when the first stone was raised in anger. What we did here was certainly a giant leap beyond that. It worries me that the people who did this, including the brilliant scientists - did this mostly just because we could. What will we decide to do next?
OK, I realize that I am pontificating a bit and as I write this tonight I am finishing a cheeseburger and my second Carta Blanca at the Owl Bar and Cafe in nearby San Antonio. Only place open on Saturday night, so it is without a doubt the best place in town.
2015, January / Miami - Miami to Havana
(I have returned to Cuba often since my first visit in 2015, and looking back on the day before that first visit makes me sad when I see what was then a hopeful period)
It is four days after US-Cuba policy changes have gone into effect and I am in a meeting room at the Miami Airport Marriott Courtyard with a group of photographers who are going to Havana tomorrow morning. Kip, our coordinator, is giving us the briefing – in summary: “It’s Cuba; it’s complicated”. Currency (two different national currencies), street manners (feel safe, but be mindful of your wallet), phone/internet prospects (minimal), daily itinerary (soon to change, more than once). Two main hazards to avoid – a) twisting an ankle on ancient sidewalks or falling into a hole, and b) getting hit by a car; it seems that Cubans are not inclined to stop for pedestrians unless in a marked crosswalk.
There is excitement about the changes and more than a little uncertainty about how they will affect us. We are each given us a license granting us permission by the US to visit the country, but it seems that this is no longer needed. Some rum and cigars may be brought back but nobody knows how picky US customs will be about receipts documenting total cost is under $100.
It is now morning and we huddle as a group to check in for our charter flight at the American Airlines counter. Our flight is an American Airlines plane and crew, Chartered by ABC charters which has a license to fly to Havana. The crew is bi-lingual and good natured with a lively sense of humor. After the 45 minute flight. we Land in Havana at a separate terminal dedicated to charter flights from the US and quickly get to customs. The young lady in a uniform notices on my passport that I have been to Africa and she asks if I have been recently or been in contact with friends or relatives from Africa recently – I can see where this is going and the answer fortunately, is no (Ebola is still a cause for concern – although there is none in Cuba). The baggage claim is a free for all, with bags arriving on both conveyors – A and B, with no hint which one will spit out my bag. I eventually come to think that identifying my bag can’t be so hard because 75 percent of the luggage is bundles of stuff in blue shrink wrap – brought in my Cubans and their relatives returning from the States. Mostly soft stuff like clothes, but I see boxes with big screen TV's, microwaves, and other electronics not available here. Among the piles of luggage, I also notice a neat pile of NBC News camera equipment and it is only now that I realize that the US Assistant Secretary of State, Roberta Jacobson, was on our flight – arriving for diplomatic talks with the Cuban Government along with Brian Williams and Andrea Mitchell of NBC. Later tonight, we will see our group on TV, boarding the plane – so that’s what the lady with the iPhone was filming!
After slight worries about finding my bag, I hand in paperwork declaring that I am not sick and am not bringing weapons, illegal drugs or pornography into the country and head out of the terminal into an uproar of relatives greeting arrivals (and their shrink wrapped bundles). The area outside the terminal has the sweet smell of cigar smoke and vintage Chevy cars cruse by looking for passengers, and I know I am here.
Tonight the city sparkles outside my hotel.
2016, Monday August 8 / Iceland - Above Landmannalaugar
I am up early-ish, preparing for a possibly exciting day. It is overcast and spitting drizzle in Reykjavik, but I hope the weather will improve. I call Jon Karl to see about the prospects for a flight today. He is a retired Icelandair pilot, the son of an Icelandair pilot, and the proud father of a third Icelandair pilot, so I feel like I am in good hands. He says, sure, come out to his airstrip in Hella - about 90 minutes East of Reykjavik. The volcano near him is out and the glacier near him is clear too with some partly overcast skys. The rent-a-car process is tedious but I am on the way soon enough.
Route 1 is the the main ring road and I go through volcanic countryside that is familiar and reminds me of The Big Island of Hawaii in some ways - lava flows of differing ages and differing vegetation cover - but no trees to be seen. Lumpy carpeting. Jon Karl's summer compound is a bit difficult to find but cell phones save the day. He greets me and introduces me to his wife and two young children - oh, and the bunny that they just caught. Over coffee and chocolate, he asks where I might want to go and I mumble something like "oh the place you suggested sounds perfect". I am not going to even try to pronounce it - it is a long word, and looks easy enough, but when he says it it is very different. I admit that I have difficulty with Icelandic pronunciation and he smiles and says really? you must be the only one that does. So we walk out to his 4 seat plane (like a VW bug has 4 seats), and taxi down his grass airstrip, gain a little altitude and head northeast.
The landscape gradually changes to a wonderful jumble of volcanic stuff from the recently active Hekla Volcano, mixed up with streams and lakes produced from the large glaciers to the East. Colors and textures and shadows keep changing as we weave along, with him banking the plane to get better photographing angles for me.
I am a kid in a candy shop, but I have to remember to take my eye out of the viewfinder from time to time and just soak in the amazing landscape. Much of it is inaccessible, but there are gravel tracks and we do see fishermen and the likes working their way around parts of the countryside.
After a spectacular couple of hours we land again at his compound and I get a photo of Jon Karl and his beloved plane, with Hekla Volcano peeking over the ridge behind. In his house we are greeted with more coffee and chocolate and have a short comfortable chat on the porch before I hit the road again. I have not met anyone in Iceland who does not speak excellent English, and I appreciate the chance to be comfortable with conversation in a foreign place. Don't think I mentioned this, but I was introduced to Jon Karl by his brother Haukur (Hawk), who I will see tomorrow for the next chapter of my visit - photo tour!
2017, Monday May 15 / Bhutan - Dunkar, Bhutan
Michael was right about the leeches. When they bite, you tend to bleed a lot - I'll make a point to be extra careful about midnight bathroom runs in the future. They are all over the ground where we are camping because it has been raining quite a lot in Dunkhar, which is pretty much the end of the road in Bhutan. Our guide, Sonam, is from here as is the King's ancestral family - but it is a small, little visited village near the Tibet border. Now I'm back in my sleeping bag, and I am surprisingly clear headed after all the locally brewed ara (moonshine) and Bhutanese whiskey that I drank last night. The villagers that came to greet us last night welcomed us with some very sweet woman's songs, sung in a circle with swaying and shuffling of feet. Our group responded with attempts at songs that everyone might know, which was mostly limited to Amazing Grace, and Jeremiah Was a Bullfrog.
The following day, the process repeats, with the villagers coming to welcome us, sing songs and offer ara, but we are able to add Row, Row, Row Your Boat to our repertoire under the rising full moon that illuminates the snow on the high peaks near us.
On our way here, we traveled about six hours, first along the main (only) East - West road which is one lane and little trafficked but then we turn north along a smaller road that follows a spectacular river valley North to our campsite. Long stretches of the road are paved recently, but the unpaved sections are ... interesting.
Everyone that we meet are sweet and considerate, and the Buddhist premise of living a compassionate life seems to permeate the country.
2018, Thursday August 2 / Zambia - In Camp
A gentle “good morning, good morning” wakes me; it is 5:30 and someone is filling the washbasin outside my tent. I am up, find my headlamp, find the clothes that I wore yesterday next to the futon bed and unzip the tent to splash warm water on my face. A visit to the pit toilet, and then join the others for breakfast.
The last several days have a comforting routine –
up at 5:30, breakfast of porridge and toast, leave for a walk at 6:15, stop for tea at 9:30, return to camp for a remarkable lunch at 11:30, siesta until 3:30 tea, leave for a walk at 4:00, stop for sundowner drinks at 6:30, return for a remarkable dinner at 7:30, in bed by 9:00. The meals are all made in camp from scratch over a wood fire, including baked bread, muffins and cookies in a ground oven. It is a mobile camp and will to pack up and move to the next campsite during our morning walk.
When we leave for today’s walk, we are with our guide, Jason and support team of Jimmy – the armed park ranger who is responsible for keeping us safe, and Geoff, - the camp naturalist guide who is also “tea bearer”. Our path varies from woodland to tall grass as we follow game trails near the bank of the Mupamadzi River. Jason is a native Zambian whose European parents came to the country in the 1950’s. Along the way, he is prone to say things like: “So, should we go around here and see if we can catch up to the lions?” or “The elephant hasn’t noticed us yet because we are downwind, but we don’t want to startle him, so if he gets any closer let’s hope he goes behind that bush so we can withdraw.” But mostly the walk is “Things seem pretty quiet just now.” and we observe a lot of birds, plants and small antelope. There are signs of wildlife everywhere – vultures on a kill in the middle of the river (maybe wild dogs?), roaring lions and irritated elephant trumpets in the distance, lion, leopard, hyena & elephant tracks, or monkey alarm calls from the trees (leopard nearby?), but mostly everything seems intent on avoiding us.
We stop for tea and freshly baked peanut cookies along the bank of the River and notice a small group of Cape Buffalo in the distance, on the far bank and decide to explore. The river is knee deep, cool, with a sandy bottom, so not a good habitat for crocodiles who like deep murky water, so that’s good to know. But there is a bit of a current, so I have to concentrate to keep my balance.
On the other side of the river we approach the buffalo from downwind, but they soon see us and act warily until they figure out our intent. In fact, everything in this remote part of South Luangwa National Park is a bit skittish because our camp has the only humans for maybe 50 miles and they are just not used to us. Every animal has a natural safety zone, and with the buffalo we cannot get within maybe 100 yards before they retreat. Jason’s experience has led him to believe that all the wildlife is rational and not necessarily a threat – except for the psychotic ones, which he tells us to supposedly be reassuring. In 30 years he has only heard for a handful of cases where a warning shot had to be fired to head off a bad encounter.
Following afternoon tea and fresh muffins, the second walk of the day is mostly a stroll with ample time to look back at the developing sunset. We end up on a bluff over the river where the camp vehicle has brought our setup for cocktails and fresh brochetta. When the sun is down, it is easy to spot Venus, Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn in addition to the Moon. Mercury is up there somewhere, but may be behind a cloud.
2019, Sunday January 20 / Long Beach - Discoveries Close to Home
It's a beautiful day for an adventure close to home. I’m driving west from downtown Long Beach - ahead is the huge combined Port of Los Angeles + Long Beach and I am heading to explore it with my grade school buddy, Tom. The port is actually so close that I can see every day from my window, and I normally have no cause to go there, but we hope for new discoveries. I have a few high tech sites I hope to explore, but we will probably just do a lot of wandering. We drive towards Terminal Island and the route's a bit convoluted by detours around the construction of a new bridge to replace the existing bridge that is too old (only 1968), too narrow, and too low for the next generation of cargo ships - a huge project.
Making our way out of the construction zone, we turn off into the port and come across a huge white tent structure surrounded by fences and razor wire – it is the temporary home of the audacious project by SpaceX (Elon Musk) to build a huge starship for sending people to Mars. We drive in circles through the parking lot and I would love to peek inside but we see the guarded entrance and decide to continue on our way. Now we're driving on the Navy Mole, a large man-made peninsula that sheltered the former LB Navel Shipyard and we're between the waterline and an endless siding of train cars loaded with thousands of cargo containers on their way to who knows where. We stop for pictures and to soak up the sun.
At the end of the road is the now quiet home of the Sea Launch floating rocket launching platform – someone’s crazy, but once successful, idea to float rockets down to the equator in the middle of the Pacific Ocean for a better angle to launch communications satellites. It is quiet right now because after financial problems, I think it has been sold to a Russian company and they are gearing up to continue operations next year. Interesting.
It is Saturday but there is still truck traffic on the roads, but few cars. I keep wondering if we're somewhere we shouldn't be and I keep glancing in the rear view mirror to see if we are being tailed by port security, but almost all roads are open to the public. Areas that are off limits, and there are quite a few, are protected by security gates and guards - Coast Guard station, shipping company yards, water treatment plant, oil storage tanks and the like - even a federal low security prison. As we drive, Tom and I are sharing rambling memories of youthful exploits, catching up on what old classmates are doing, and sometimes moving on to our feelings about ageing and death. A lot to consider, but the conversation is easy going and often interrupted by discoveries along the way.
Along the way, in the middle of the busy port, we come across a small memorial and statue commemorating the site of a fishing village that was inhabited by Japanese Americans before WWII. At the start of the war the residents were removed from their homes and relocated to internment camps - the village bulldozed when the government took over the land. Recently, someone has placed fresh flowers. We see there are two other people here – a man and his wife, visiting from Chicago to celebrate her mother's 90th birthday, and I offer to take their picture. We chat a bit and they tell me that they came across the memorial by chance and they share the story of his parents who were relocated to a camp in Arkansas during the war. Some of his relatives moved west after their release by his family stayed in the Midwest. A poignant connection.
Moving on, I am looking for another spaceship venue that I had heard of but we discover that the SpaceX rocket landing platform, brilliantly named “Just Read the Instructions” after a sci-fi spaceship, is apparently not in port. Or maybe I am just lost. I had hoped to see it because it is an amazing project allowing rockets to be reused by returning and landing, Buck Rogers style, off the coast of Vandenberg Air Force Base. Instead, we see a gull watching a giant cargo ship being nudged towards the outer harbor by two tugs.
Soon, we come across a Los Angeles Fire Department fire boat station near the battleship USS Iowa, and we all the doors are locked but we can peak through windows into its shelter. It is quite a machine and we can see a few people in the pilot house, maybe having coffee. The boat’s main water cannon proudly boasts that it can furnish 11,000 gallons of water per minute. I do some mental division by 60 to get seconds and I am duly impressed.
On the way home, we stop at the Queen Mary in hopes of joining a tour of the engine rooms. Only a few problems – the tours are booked up until three hours from now, and the cost is $45 to even get on board. Disappointed, we look up at the side of the ship and imagine the effort it took to drive the thousands of visible rivets that hold it together.
A rewarding day, but I think we have just scratched the surface. I get home and look up information about the port and discover that the port of LA is the largest container port in the US and the LB port is second largest. But another remarkable fact is that the two of them combined only make up the 9th largest port in the world (ahead of them are ports in Singapore, South Korea and SIX from China, including #1 Shanghai which, on its own, handles almost three times the traffic of LA/LB). Food for thought.
2020, Wednesday February 19 / Finland - Lapland
I'm in Lapland, north of the Arctic Circle in Finland, with Lisa and Barbara. Barbara is from Hawaii and is a little freaked out about the temperature in February, but she had also been to Alaska in the winter and loved it. Lisa and I are from California where winters are mild as well, but I'm sure we will be fine. Planning for February travel certainly makes for a pretty big packing list, since the activities are expected to include show shoeing, dog sledding, and midnight Northern Light hunts. Somewhere in the packing is a pretty modest collection photo gear, at least compared to some other trips: Fuji X-T20 mirrorless, two lenses, tripod, and Olympus TG-4 digital waterproof for a backup.
For anyone interested, the flag of Finland is simple and pure, with the blue Nordic Cross representing Christianity. The crest of the northern Lappi province certainly shows they are not timid about showing their independent nature. To add to the discussion, the indigenous Sami people have adopted their own flag which is flown in the north of several Nordic countries. Its modern design takes colors from traditional Sami costumes, and the circle is blue for the Moon and red for the Sun. I'm fond of this one.
We are in Rovaniemi, which is a grey, but practical sort of town - right on the Arctic Circle. Modern buildings and indoor shopping malls. After breakfast we make an initial foray to test our reaction to the weather (cold) and our clothing (too munch for indoors, not enough for outside). But today is relative mild - in the 20's, although tonight it might fall to 0. Lisa and I buy goggles at a sporting good store because it seems like the wind might be a problem at some point. Sun is rising about 8:15, but sets a little after 5:00. The worst of the dark winter is behind the town and the sporting good store seems to be featuring running shoes and bathing suits, in hopes of things to come.